Book Title: Acsquidentally In Love
Author: K.L. Hiers
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: Tiferet Design
Genre/s: Paranormal M/M Romance, Mystery, Tentacles
Trope/s: Solving Your Own Murder, Boy Meets God, Hidden Villain, Consentacles
Themes: Restoring Faith, Seeking Justice, Self-Sacrifice
Length: 60 000 words/ 188 pages
It is the first book in the series.
Buy Links
Publisher | Amazon US | Amazon UK
Nothing brings two men—or one man and an ancient god—together like revenge.
Blurb
Nothing brings two men—or one man and an ancient god—together like revenge.
Private investigator Sloane sacrificed his career in law enforcement in pursuit of his parents’ murderer. Like them, he is a follower of long-forgotten gods, practicing their magic and offering them his prayers… not that he’s ever gotten a response.
Until now.
Azaethoth the Lesser might be the patron of thieves and tricksters, but he takes care of his followers. He’s come to earth to avenge the killing of one of his favorites, and maybe charm the pants off the cute detective Fate has placed in his path. If he has his way, they’ll do much more than bring a killer to justice. In fact, he’s sure he’s found the man he’ll spend his immortal life with.
Sloane’s resolve is crumbling under Azaethoth’s surprising sweetness, and the tentacles he sometimes glimpses escaping the god’s mortal form set his imagination alight. But their investigation gets stranger and deadlier with every turn. To survive, they’ll need a little faith… and a lot of mystical firepower.
Hi there! My name is K.L. “Kat” Hiers, and I’m here to celebrate my new release, Acsquidentally In Love! It’s a paranormal romance about a lonely private investigator who tries to resist falling in love with an ancient tentacle god while they try to solve a crazy murder! It’s got witches and ghouls and a love story that is absolutely magical. This story is so very special to me, and I can’t wait for you guys to check it out.
I’ve always wanted to be a writer, and I owe a lot of my determination and passion to Sister Act 2. Yup, that movie with Whoopi and the singing nuns. That’s the one. It’s funny how things from our childhood can shape us into the adults we grow up to be. For better or worse, we all have certain experiences that we carry with us for all of our lives. I know it may sound silly, but that movie was absolutely vital in my quest to become a writer.
Okay, if you’ve somehow never seen this movie, small spoilers ahead. There is a scene where Sister Mary Clarence is trying to convince Rita to sing in the choir, and she tells her, “If you wake up in the morning, you can think of nothing but writing, then you are a writer.”
Powerful stuff, right?
Of course, those are actually Rainer Maria Rilke’s words from “Letters to a Young Poet” (Sister Mary Clarence says as much in the film), and Whoopi was using the quote to encourage Rita to be a singer, but that quote stuck with me like fluff on velcro. We all have to do those silly little projects in school about what we want to be when we grew up, and my answer was always to be a writer. It was all I ever thought about. I had dozens of journals packed full of my stories, and I would always go to sleep thinking about the magical little worlds I wanted to write about. When I woke up, you can bet that the first thing I thought about was what I was going to write next.
As I got older, however, I found myself being discouraged from pursuing writing. It was cute for a little kid to have this incredible dream, but not so much for a teenager. I remember teachers and family telling me that I needed to find something that would be profitable and get into a field where I could have a career. It was going to be too difficult for me to get published, and I would never be able to survive trying to make it big as an author, so I had to do something else.
So, I did. I went and got that dependable grown-up job, but I still never stopped writing.
I tried to find something that I felt as passionate about as I did about my dream to be an author, and while I came pretty close, it still wasn’t the same. I still woke up thinking about writing and dreaming about all the amazing worlds I wanted to explore in my imagination. I would think about Sister Mary Clarence telling me that it didn’t matter if I ever got published or made any money because I was already a writer by default.
Still, being paid to write would be pretty cool, and I finally got something together to send off to publishers when I was in my twenties. That first book I tried to get published was a hot stinkin’ mess. There was so much I didn’t understand, and yeah, let’s just say I failed spectacularly. I kept on writing, both original works and fan fiction, but I figured I would just be a writer for my own enjoyment.
It wasn’t until almost ten years after that first book disaster that I met a very special someone, sort of a real life Sister Mary Clarence, who put their foot lovingly in my ass and told me to try again. She taught me everything – how to kill my darlings and edit efficiently, went over pesky summary letters and explained how to pick which publishers to submit to.
Shit, I didn’t even know what an open call was until she told me.
A few months later, Cold Hard Cash was accepted for publishing. I couldn’t have done it without her help, and I will always be eternally grateful. I also owe a big ol’ bucket of thanks to Sister Mary Clarence, too. It was that mantra she taught me when I was so little that drove me to keep writing no matter what. It helped be ultimately become a better writer, and I have so many stories that I can now share with the whole world.
I’m sure Whoopi Goldberg never thought that her movie would go on to help inspire someone to write a magical world full of tentacle gods, but hey, if I ever get the chance to actually meet her? After I’m done freaking out and peeing everywhere, I’m definitely gonna tell her.
“I’m sorry,” Loch said suddenly, his attention stolen away from the television and focusing intently on Sloane.
“What?” Sloane turned his head, staring in shock. He didn’t think gods were much on apologies.
“I obviously caused you great discomfort with my actions earlier today,” Loch explained, his hand reaching for Sloane’s, “and yes, while I am a trickster… I don’t aim to always be a complete bastard.”
“Loch,” Sloane murmured softly, surprised by how genuinely sorry he sounded.
“I got this for you,” Loch said, a tentacle reaching over to present Sloane with an incense bowl. “It upset you, but… it also brought you joy. I thought you might like to have it.”
“This is from the museum!” Sloane gasped, recognizing it immediately as the one that had reminded him of his mother’s. “You stole this? Loch! How did you, it, it was in a glass case! We need to take it back!”
“Technically, the museum stole it from my family,” Loch said smugly. “It was an offering for my aunt, and I was merely making an effort to return it to its rightful owner. Since she’s asleep, it’s my responsibility to liberate it on her behalf. I am now giving it to you.”
“I can’t… I can’t accept this!”
“Don’t you like it?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then please take it,” Loch urged, “with my most sincere apologies.”
“Thank you.” Sloane was touched and looked over the bowl with a helpless smile. It was as good of an apology as he would likely ever get from an immortal being, with or without the well meaning theft. Suspicious, he added quickly, “I’m still not going to have sex with you.”
“We’ll see.” Loch laughed, giving Sloane’s hand a playful tug.
“No, we won’t,” Sloane said despite a big grin creeping onto his face. He didn’t pull his hand away, letting their fingers tangle together even after he put the incense bowl aside. It felt nice.
A few more sips from his drink and Sloane ended up cuddling against Loch’s side with his arm around his shoulders. That was nice too.
“Do you… uhm… do you want something to eat?” Sloane asked quietly as the hour grew late, and he realized that sandwich was the only thing either of them had had all day.
“I don’t require sustenance,” Loch replied, smirking fondly down at Sloane. “Immortal, remember?”
“Right. Uhm….”
“Would you like… something?” Loch asked innocently, his tongue swiping slowly over his lips to indicate he was definitely not talking about food.
Sloane’s cheeks flushed immediately, his attention drawn to Loch’s mouth as he stammered, “N-no, I’m actually pretty good right now.”
Loch shifted, using his arm around Sloane’s shoulders to pull him closer. He cradled Sloane’s face, fingers running into his hair as he purred, “Are you absolutely sure?”
No one had ever looked at Sloane the way Loch was right now, with such heat, such adoration and raw desire. It made his blood pump excitedly and his breath catch in his mouth before he could properly inhale.
“Not really,” Sloane replied weakly.
Loch nosed along Sloane’s cheek, sighing, “Why are you so afraid to let yourself experience pleasure with me?”
“I don’t just go around ‘experiencing pleasure’ with people!” Sloane protested even as his voice cracked when he felt Loch’s tongue slide along the edge of his ear. “Fuck….”
“Why not?” Loch asked, his breath hot and husky in Sloane’s ear.
“Because… because….” Sloane couldn’t think straight, stammering to think of an answer. It was impossible to gather his thoughts with Loch’s tongue at his ear and his fingers curling so sweetly through his hair.
“Because?” Loch pressed, calm and perfectly innocent.
“When I’m with someone, I want it to mean something,” Sloane said finally, his head foggy and trying to remain firm. “I want something that will last.”
“It can last all night,” Loch promised, his lips lightly pressing against Sloane’s jaw. “And the night after that… and the night after that….”
“Fuck it,” Sloane hissed, dragging Loch into a hot kiss, shoving his tongue into his mouth with a loud moan.
K.L. “Kat” Hiers is an embalmer, restorative artist, and queer writer. Licensed in both funeral directing and funeral service, she’s been working in the death industry for nearly a decade. Her first love was always telling stories, and she has been writing for over twenty years, penning her very first book at just eight years old. Publishers generally do not accept manuscripts in Hello Kitty notebooks, however, but she never gave up.
Following the success of her first novel, Cold Hard Cash, she now enjoys writing professionally, focusing on spinning tales of sultry passion, exotic worlds, and emotional journeys. She loves attending horror movie conventions and indulging in cosplay of her favorite characters. She lives in Zebulon, NC, with her husband and their six children, three of whom have paws and one who sometimes thinks he does.
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